Horror of Our Love
by boredom is a crime
Summary: Harry's sick of living like he's been. He goes to live the life his love would have wanted. But who's his love? I know stupid question. R&R DarkHarry/Voldemost slash multi chapter song-fic for Horror of Our Love by Ludo.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful_

Harry lay in his bed, bloody and broken, waiting, waiting. Waiting for what? Did he himself know? No, he didn't. But when it happened, he would know, instincts would over-power him and drive him to do what must be done. What must be done? He didn't know, but by the end of the night, it will have happened. For unavoidable was this thing he knew nothing about, this instinct driven action that soon - Soon? ... Yes, soon - would take place. He hummed a tune to pass the time.

Somewhere in the house, so quiet and anticipating, a clock struck the hour. Twelve times a tone cried out. Then, Harry felt it. It was subtle at first, only a small twinge in his gut that urged at him to righten himself and leave the small room.

_Get up_, something whispered into his ear. _You've been waiting, _it said,_ and now it's time. Get up._

And so Harry did. Listening to this voice that spoke so quietly, so lovingly, so perfectly - How could it be evil? - he left his bed and walked to the door, opened it an descended the stairs. As he headed for the Front Door, the voice chided him.

_This way, childe, _it spoke from his left.

Harry followed it into the kitchen. It lead him to the counter, into which he almost walked.

_Up here, _the voice spoke.

Lazily, Harry's eyes moved to the top of the counter, to the knives which rested so peacefully in their board.

_Take one._

Harry tried to take a step back, but the twinge that had affected him earlier was back now and felt like so much more. It writhed in his gut, pulled from him toward the knives. And with a shaking hand, Harry grabbed one, the biggest one. For how could his gut be wrong, the voice evil? It was heavy in his hand, that knife, but he paid no mind, simply waited for the next instinct to pull him along.

He did not have to wait long. _Back up the stairs._

Harry obeyed

_To the little whale's room._

Harry opened Dudley's door, walked with the pulling feeling toward the great tub of lard's bed and stood over it. His cousin rolled onto his back, displayed himself in his grotesqueness to Harry. Harry raised his arm, the one holding the knife, moved his free hand to cover Dudley's large mouth and in one swift move, brought his arm down to perfectly land in the middle of Dudley's heart. The beast gasped, flailed a bit and watched Harry with accusing eyes, eyes that felt wrong to Harry. Had he not displayed those same eyes to Dudley as he was beaten, starved, raped? Yes? And had the little whale done anything to help? No? Than Harry should show the same.

_To the next room._

Harry pulled from the beast his knife and again followed the pulling into the Master Bedroom where the horse and larger whale slept. They were not touching, simply lying side by side on their backs. He touched the horse's shoulder. "Auntie," he whispered. Petunia woke up instantly, a glare on her face, but immediately froze in shock at the sight of the bloody knife.

"What have you done?" she hissed.

_Now!_

Harry stabbed his aunt just as he did his cousin, perfectly in the heart. She moaned in pain, a tremor ran through her body before she stilled.

_Good boy. Now just one more._

Harry walked over to the other side of the bed, stared down at his tormentor of fifteen years with nothing short of pure hatred. He raised his knife, but hesitated. Was it really so easy to stop it all? To put it all to rest? Just one stab?

_No childe, enjoy it._

Nodding, Harry slammed the knife into his uncle's fat stomach. The man woke with a scream, he looked around franticly for his attacker, but found only his nephew smiling wickedly. Veron's eyes followed the child's arm to where it still rested against his stomach, knife clutched tightly. Smiling brighter at the fear in his uncle's eyes, Harry removed the knife and deposited it again into the man's stomach, only higher this time, nicking a rib. The whale screamed again.

Again and again, Harry stabbed his uncle until naught was left of him but a cold, bloodied corps. He smiled softly down at his tormentor. "No more," he said and left the room, left the house, walked bloodied and broken down the street and out of sight.

**author's note:**

they probably wont be much longer or, hell, they might be shorter, but here you go, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

_Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom_

Harry stared intently at the sleeping form before him, eyes wide in not wanting to miss a movement. He was obsessive like that. This person in front of him – If he could be called that – was silent in his slumber, quiet like nothing Harry had ever heard, yet so loud in his presence, his power so intense to Harry. Harry wanted this person in a way that was not ever to be considered healthy, in a way that would make others cringe and step back. But not this man, this man was already so screwed up, he would see Harry's wanting for exactly as it was and welcome it. Well, maybe not now, Harry had to do a few things first, but he was sure, once they were done, the man before him would welcome him with open arms. Maybe. Oh how he hoped, how he longed!

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, stepped closer to the slumbering form with an outstretched arm. Fingers grasped at empty air, inches away from the man slumbering so quietly. Harry dare not touched what would soon be his for fear of alerting the other to his presence. Not that he was actually there at all. In fact, he was many, many miles away laying on a card-board box outside a dingy bar, hiding from the constables. But his soul was there, there with the man he so longed for. Longed for so much. So much.

Slowly, Harry lowered his body sideways onto the bed, half a foot between him and the man. He smiled softly at him. The man was beautiful, long dark brown hair splayed loosely about his head, high, aristocratic cheek bones and skin pale as the moon. And that beauty would soon belong to him, be his for all time as both held the secret to immortality.

"And when you find you can find no one, you'll find me," Harry sung softly.

The man's eyes fluttered briefly before opening slowly, eyes like rubies staring straight into Harry's emeralds, both bright and shinning. Harry moaned. Those eyes! He couldn't help it, he ran his fingers lightly over the man's cheek. "Tom," he whispered. The man's eyes narrowed.

Harry woke up laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

_I've murdered half the town_

Harry stood silently outside the house, so small on the outside, but so big in. His wand was in his hand, clutched tightly in anticipation. Slowly, he raised his hand and knocked. The door opened almost instantly, Dumbledore stood on the other side of the threshold. Lightening fast, Harry raised his wand and hissed the death curse. The white haired man fell to the ground moments later. Harry stood in the doorway a few moments before moving when no one else came to inspect the sound. He walked through the house to the kitchen, threw open the door. Someone screamed. He imagined what he looked like, blood splattered across his face and clothes, wild look in his eyes and dark circles under them.

He giggled a second before he started firing off the death curse; each shout was met by the thump of a body falling to the ground. When no one moved, he stood panting in the middle of the bodies, each in some stage of approaching him, wands half drawn. Then someone stared down the stairs, running franticly and stumbling a lot. Harry turned to the door wand raised, curse ready on his lips. A small red headed girl appeared in the doorway moments later. Harry laughed brokenly at her wide eyes.

"Harry?" the girl spoke softly. "What happened?"

Harry spoke the torturing curse, the spell hit Ginny in the chest and down she went, falling to the ground screaming. Harry laughed at her screams, danced crazy circles about her writhing form, and clapped. Suddenly, he stopped and released the curse, looked at Ginny but faced a different direction. How funny she looked from the corners of his eyes.

"What are you doing?" she sobbed.

Harry turned to face her, placed fingers to his mouth and giggled. "Why I'm killing you, silly girl," he said and fired the killing curse. He mumbled a spell that played music and danced in dizzying circles around the bodies. He hummed along to the tune before laughing crazily. He raised his arm suddenly and began to waltz, lying his head on the invisible chest of the man that wasn't there. He danced up the stairs, out of the house and again down the street, setting fires to buildings as he went.


	4. Chapter 4

_Left you love notes on their headstones_

Harry blinked down at the many people gathered to morn from atop his tall hill. He smiled as he noticed several people sobbing hysterically. He had caused this, he had done this. For his love, always for his love. He do anything for his love, anything he asked and whatever he wanted, Harry would do it. Because his love deserved it, to be at the top of a pile of bodies, to have the world laid at his feet. Voldemort. Harry shivered as he thought the name. Oh how he longed to be loved by the man, to give the man anything and everything he wanted, needed, desired. And Harry hoped beyond hope that one day, one day soon, the man would desire, want, need him. But until that day, Harry would continue to do things for his love, to give him what he wanted and couldn't have, because he deserved. And no matter what hoops Harry had to jump through to do something, Harry would do it. Because he loved Voldemort, with all of his twisted heart and warped mind, he loved him. And no matter what, Harry would prove that love until Voldemort was forced to acknowledge it.

He waited at the top of that hill, thinking circling thoughts about his desire, until finally, _finally, _everyone had left the service. After being sure no one would come back, he walked slowly down the hill, robes flowing about him, to the headstones that marked the newly deceased. He smiled at the stones. Such a pretty shade of grey they were. He took out his wand and whispered a spell that made the tip white hot. Slowly, he carved messages into the stones, love messages stating his wants and desires, stroking the Dark Lord's ego.

_I did it because I love you._

_Only for you._

_May all perish at your hand._

_May you live forever with me._

_Love me._

_Take me._

_I love you_


	5. Chapter 5

_I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._

Harry watched with wide eyes as the Death Eaters attacked the Aurors. His eyes darted about the place, from white mask to pale face. Adrenalin sang in his veins, pumped though his body and left him feeling high. Curses were flying everywhere, Dark, Light, Grey, anything to win. Because in the end, that's all it was, a battle to win, to the death. Harry saw a Death Eater go down and his heart sank. Voldemort was losing! His _love _was losing! Snarling, Harry made himself known, ran out of his hiding spot and struck down the Auror responsible for the Death Eater, killing him quickly. Immediately, he was attacked by other Aurors, but he held his own, killing a great deal of them and even helping out other Death Eaters about to loose. Killing one more Auror, Harry stopped to look around, it was over, the Death Eaters had won, his _love_ had won. Harry smiled contently.

"You, who the hell are you?" a voice called from behind him.

Harry turned to address his speaker and gave a twisted smile. He was wearing a mask, a deep purple one that only covered his eyes and nose, his mouth was free so that he could speak. No one should've been able to tell who he was. Other Death Eaters began to look in his direction, checking him out before turning away quickly.

"I asked you a question! Who are you?" Lucius Malfoy asked again.

Harry giggled and pressed his lips together. The Death Eaters eyes lingered this time, examining the one who dared defy an inner circle member. Lucius snarled, brought out his wand and held it up, pointed it threateningly at Harry who immediately stopped giggling. Harry glared hard at the man, his emeralds glinting angrily.

"You dare point that _stick_ at me? You dare, when I am to be what I will become? I should strike you now, you vile, insignificant, little-"

"And what will you become?" a smooth voice asked.

Harry fell to his knees instantly, bowed his head and kept his eyes down. "Milord," he said.

"And _how_ do you know of my identity?" Voldemort asked.

"One must know everything about the one they love," was Harry's smooth answer.

Voldemort raised a perfectly sculpted eye brow. "You love me?"

"I always have," Harry whispered.

The Dark Lord hummed. "Remove your mask."

Harry did as asked, revealing his angular face.

Lucius hissed instantly. "Potter," he spat, raising his previously lowered wand only to be stopped by a hand motion from the Dark Lord.

"Potter," the Voldemort said, "Prove to me your love."

"Milord, you can't be serious!" Lucius snarled.

Harry shot the torturing curse at him. "Don't question him!" Lucius screamed and writhed at the feet of his lord. Harry turned his eyes to the Dark Lord. "Milord, I have killed many Auror tonight as well as most of the Order in previous nights. You may view my mind if need be," Harry said and looked straight into his Lord's eyes. The man did view into his mind, picked at it until he felt content. Harry panted as his _love_ retreated from his mind. "Are you pleased?" Harry asked hesitantly.

His Lord was silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I am."

A large smile spread out on Harry's face, a wild glint shone in his eyes, making many look away.

Voldemort nodded to Lucius still writhing on the ground. "Release him and come with me."

Harry did as told. "Yes Milord."


	6. Chapter 6

_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness_

It had been a month since Harry had been taken from the battle field, a week of proving himself time and time again. It seemed everyone thought his reasons for the change in heart false. Dare they think his love false? But he had showed them, again and again he tortured and cursed those who dare question him. The only good was that Voldemort seemed quite pleased with Harry, the way he talked of the world at his Lord's feet, of a throne made of muggle bones. In the first week, he had been tortured many times, but he had shown his love by not uttering a single sound and this seemed to please the Lord even more.

And now he stood, in the middle of a large room with an equally large window shining moonlight onto the floor in front of him. Voldemort walked slowly toward Harry, causing rips and tears in the moon's beams. Harry's eyes shone bright with wanting as he watched his Lord move. When he was directly in front of Harry, he stopped, stared at the young teen intently. Slowly, Harry brought his hand up and lightly touched his Lord's cheek, the skin smooth beneath his fingers. Voldemort's eyes narrowed and Harry trembled under the gaze. The Dark Lord raised his hand swiftly and grabbed Harry's wrist in a vice grip. Harry's breath quickened in anticipation. And suddenly, Voldemort's lips were on Harry's own, claiming and dominating Harry brutally. Harry moaned and quickly opened his mouth to his Lord, his _love_.

Oh finally did he have this! After an entire month of subtle flirting and years of waiting, he finally had the desire of his _love_, finally held the other man in want of himself. Harry growled in lust and brought his hands up to wrap firmly around his _love's_ neck, pressing them close together. Voldemort pulled away soon after, spent a long moment simply watching Harry come down from his high. Then he left without looking back.


	7. Chapter 7

_Carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines._

Harry watched from the shadows as his Lord walked silently deeper into the forest in which they were located. He swallowed hard. His _love_ was beautiful, dark robes billowing about him as he sliced through the shadows, little slivers of moonlight playing along his form. Harry wanted him so bad. The kiss had not been enough for Harry and the Dark Lord had not touched him once sense then, barely even acknowledged him. Harry whimpered as his Lord pulled out his wand. The power the man had left Harry moaning and writhing. Harry wanted him so bad.

Hesitantly, quietly, slowly, Harry followed his Lord through the trees, steps cautious in not wanting to be discovered. His Lord continued to walk, his wand drawn, among the trees, always just a few feet in front of Harry. They walked together for a long time, one seemingly unaware of the other's presence. As Voldemort entered a clearing, Harry stayed behind, pacing in the deep brush along the edges. His Lord looked otherworldly in the bright light of the moon.

"Harry," Voldemort said after a long while, "come out of the trees."

Slowly, Harry's form bleed out of the shadows to stand rigid in the same light his _love _stood in. The light illuminated his too pale skin, washed white from too many days kept inside. His eyes glowed brightly. He bowed slowly. "Milord."

"And why, Harry did you feel the need to come follow me out he tonight?" the Dark Lord inquired.

Harry trembled at the power coming off his _love _in waves. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "You've not- we've not," he stammered.

"Ah, you're worried because I've not pursued you, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"Come here."

Harry did not hesitate in following the order, immediately coming to stand in front of his _love_. He looked right over his Lord's shoulder, not daring to make eyes contact in his embarrassed state. A hand came to rest on his cheek; Harry leaned into the touch, trembled in his Lord's hands.

"Harry do you doubt me?"

"Never Milord," Harry whispered.

"Then trust I will come to you."

"Yes Milord."

And then Voldemort's lips were on his again, cold and demanding. Harry gave in immediately, opened his mouth and allowed himself to be dominated by his_ love. _Harry moaned.


	8. Chapter 8

_I want you stuffed into my mouth._

Harry kneeled in front of his Lord, bright eyes staring up into dark ones. He was breathing softly, waiting patiently, hopefully, for his Lord to do something, anything.

"Harry," Voldemort said.

"Milord?"

There was a long pause in which Harry admired his lovely Lord, his beautiful _love_. His dark hair splayed about his shoulders, his defined nose and lips. What a lovely face, what a pretty neck, what a wondrous frame to be sitting so calmly, so perfectly on a throne of black marble. Harry sighed.

"Pleasure me," His _love_ said.

Harry's eyes became lidded in lust, his pupils dilated, he began breath heavily. "Yes my _love_." He moved carefully closer to his Lord, getting up and slinking toward the older man with rolling hips. He kneeled again directly in front of his _love_, his chest barely rubbing against the other's knees as he crouched. Moving slowly as to draw out the moments to come, he drew open his Lord's robes, moved them away from the desired region. Carefully, Harry brought his _love _out of his trousers, held him gently in his palm and stared up at his Lord who sighed contently and looked back.

"Do it," Voldemort whispered.

Still watching his Lord, Harry brought his mouth down onto him, touched his tongue lightly on the soft skin. Seeing his _love _shiver, Harry took the whole thing in his mouth, swallowed its enormity down. He worked for a while, bobbing and sucking and licking and _pleasuring_. It wasn't long till his Lord was coming down his throat and he was swallowing every bit of it. Harry moaned at the taste.

His Lord wrenched Harry from his member and brought their mouths together in a fiery kiss. They moaned together.


	9. Chapter 9

_Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you –_

_Love, I'd never hurt you_

Harry stared lustfully down at the body below him, ran his fingers repeatedly down the smooth chest presented to him. Voldemort looked up at him, his eyes wide with excitement and Harry grinned feverishly. Harry dug his fingers deep into his Lord's skin, waited until that sweet blood surfaced around his nails. He trembled in ecstasy, dragged his nails down his _love's_ chest and reveled in the thick lines of blood he left behind. Voldemort groaned beneath him. Harry removed his hands and lapped up the blood of his _love_. He was shaking, his body shivering as his Lord ran his hands up and down Harry's sides.

Harry grabbed the knife beside them, raised it high above their heads and brought it down quickly into his _love's_ chest; Voldemort groaned and bucked against him. Smiling wickedly, Harry pulled the knife toward himself, cut through the muscle and bone and skin that was in the way and brought the knife to his member, he slit it as he brought the bloody thing to his mouth. Staring straight into his _love's _bright eyes, Harry licked their mixed fluids off the sharp edge and moaned as Voldemort's hands grasped firmly at his ass, threw his head back.

Snapping his head forward, Harry brought his fingers to the fatal cut, weeping blood, and pulled the flesh away from the bone, spread it wide and looked upon the glistening white surfaces beneath. With wide eyes, he ran his fingers down the rungs of ribs, touching them feather lightly. Without warning, he grasped the bones firmly and began pulling at them, spreading them away from the center of his _love's _chest. The bones cracked and splintered, broke as Harry moved them. Voldemort howled. Harry began laughing as the bones neared their final resting place, leaving his arms bloody and a wide crevice in his Lord's chest. He sighed contently and Voldemort panted heavily beneath him.

Harry lowered himself into the hole, turned around till his back was along his _love's _spine and sat in the warm, bloody mess that was his Lord's chest. Voldemort kissed his head and wrapped his arms around them.

Harry woke up coming.


End file.
